No More Yamaha

I've got a big adjustment to make: I can't lie on the Yamaha anymore.



I threw up on it last night while Mom and Dad were sleeping, and my barf got inside it and on its microchips. They thought it was ruined, but they were able to fix it. Of course, I'm more important to Mom and Dad than any receiver, but the problem is this... worst case scenario, cat barf in an electronic appliance is a fire risk.

And please, nobody worry that I'm sick -- since I'm a fairly floofy kitty, I'm prone to hairballs. Mom gives me hairball remedy, but occasionally, I still barf. And last night, I picked a really, really bad place to do it.

Mom feels like an idiot because she'd never thought about any of us Ballicai possibly barfing on -- or worse, in -- the receiver. Cue Mom now: DUH. But now, she has had to think about it and think about it plenty, and she and Dad have decided it's just too risky to let any of us Ballicai nap on the receiver.

So Mom has rearranged things around the bookcase to make it much more difficult for Dorydoo, me, or MaoMao to jump up there, and she's thinking about putting double-sided sticky tape on the bookcase as well to further discourage any of us from getting up there.

If anykitty has good tips for Mom on how to break me and Dorydoo of the receiver habit, I (well, *ahem* she...) is all ears.

I'm going to miss lying on the Yamaha. But there are plenty of other cozy places around here for a furry-purry, poetic, head over heels in love with her darling mancat (*swoon*, Mickeybear) to lie, reflect, compose, and contemplate.

I'm just going to have to get used to things. A new house rule.

But change can be trying for us kitties.

Jeter and Gretchen, my dear friends, I'll do that fun Scattergories meme tomorrow *smile*.

And Mickeybear, my darling dear, I am yearning so much for a nice, warm, comforting snuggle.